August 21.

My sensations are constantly changing. Sometimes a happy prospect
opens before me; but alas! it is only for a moment; and then, when
I am lost in reverie, I cannot help saying to myself, “If Albert
were to die?  Yes, she would become  and I should be”  and
so I pursue a chimera, till it leads me to the edge of a precipice
at which I shudder.

When I pass through the same gate, and walk along the same road
which first conducted me to Charlotte, my heart sinks within me
at the change that has since taken place. All, all, is altered!
No sentiment, no pulsation of my heart, is the same. My sensations
are such as would occur to some departed prince whose spirit should
return to visit the superb palace which he had built in happy times,
adorned with costly magnificence, and left to a beloved son, but
whose glory he should find departed, and its halls deserted and
in ruins.